I'm still not sure how I got so I liked being taken down by people weaker
and smaller than I. Maybe it began with seening Tarzan tied to a post by
pigmies. Or Gulliver tied down by the Lilliputians.
More likely Shirley. When I was ten and she nine, I tied her up in a
game. and then a couple of summers later; this time I got a boner looking a her
so cute in her shorts and with that puppy-dog look in her eyes. Then, after a
high school dance, she suggested we hang in her basement rec room. I was
probably seventeen and she sixteen. And she challenged me to let her tie me up
to get even for before. She, by the way, was a gymnast - only ninety some
pounds, maybe five feet, but muscular and agile. On the other hand, I was a
shade over six feet and a hundred and eighty. She did me good; must have
studied up somehow. We had bet that if I got away, she'd give me head, but if I
didn't, well, I'd still be tied up, helpless, and she could do with me as she
pleased. So, I learned the meaning of the phrase "kiss my foot," and "kiss my
ass." And other things while she obviously gloried in conquering her Goliath.
But Shirley and I lost touch, as youngsters often do.
By the time I was forty, I had married, divorced, and fathered two kids,
who my ex had custody over except every other weekend and for two weeks in the
summers.
I had also developed a frustrated penchant for being in bondage as
Shirley had put me. I thought that I had hidden my obsession quite well since I
very rarely actually engaged in it with anyone. Rather, I visited web sites and
ordered an occasional video - ususally lesbian bondage plots.
I didn't really know Marty all that well; he lived on the third floor of
our apartment building while I was on the first. We exchanged cursory greetings
occasionally as we passed in the building or parking lot. There was, I
remember, a small resemblance to Shirley, despite the difference in sexes. He
also resembled - still does - the actor who appears occasionally as Shane on the
old movie channel. Like the actor, Marty was relatively diminutive, but
masculine and good looking. He also had a 'look' in his eyes that was
unfathomable but thought provoking.
Came the Friday evening when Marty asked me to come to his apartment to
"see something.' He asked it after I had revealed that it looked like a
solitary weekend.
As soon as I entered Marty's apartment, and he locked the door behind us,
I felt a sudden terrible burning in my left leg. Really shook me and left me
weak all over for a minute or two. I turned to see Marty holding a strange
devise pointed at me. "Taser," he said. "Nice equallizer. Hands up, Big Boy."
"What the hell is going on? Damn, that was bad. Point that thing
somewhere else."
"No way, Charlie. Here is the deal. You put your hands up right now and
do whatever I tell you, or you get a dose that'll make what you just got feel
like a tickle. Now, Sucker, get those hands in the air; just like in the
movies."
Puzzled and with a fading hurt, I decided to play along for the moment,
and raised my hands above my shoulders. The act gave me a sudden twinge of
humiliation as I looked down at my captor. Keep in mind that Marty was only
about 5'6" and 140 pounds, while I was over six feet and almost two hundred. I
also knew that I had him beat financially by probably thirty or forty thousand a
year. No doubt at all that I was his superior in most ways; yet, here I was in
the early stages of becoming his prisoner. Weird! "So, Marty, what is this all
about?"
"Ok, Big Guy, here it is. And keep those hands high if you know what's
good for you. A certain video to you was misdelivered. Very interesting. I
repackaged it and put it in your mailbox. Know what I mean?"
So now he knew about my bondage "life." So what?
"Interested me too. In other ways. So, now your ass is mine, big boy.
Any trouble and you get tasered again and I call the cops to report you as a
robber. No you don't! Get those hands back in the air!! I mean business!!"
I could see he did, so raised my hands higher. But, why . . .?"
"Can't you guess, sucker? Didn't you know I'm gay? Always wanted to get
me a straight guy, especially a big bear like you. I'll bet if anyone saw us
now, they would think it pretty funny - you so much bigger than me but with your
hands up. And you naked and tied up."
"What you mean, 'naked and tied up"?
"Just what I said. Now, strip down, Charlie, my man. And I mean now and
bare."
"Shit! I guess you got me." Somehow, I felt a perverted excitement in
being held up this way, and now commanded to strip down, even by another guy.
Almost hypnotized by the taser pointed at my groin, I began to shed my
clothes. I sure didn't want another, stronger dose of that.
"Not bad, asshole. Turn around and let's see it all, with the hands back
up," Marty ordered. I felt ridiculous, but did as he commanded. "Alright;
here, put these on. Behind your back!"
Marty was giving me no opportunity as he tossed me a pair of handcuffs -
less the key. If he had tried to cuff me himself, I could have grabbed him and
ended it, but he took no chance at all.
"You've gotta be kidding! No, I guess you aren't." I did as he told me,
putting the cuffs on my own wrists while turned slightly so he could see; then
tightened them down when he directed me to.
"Damn! You were so easy, Charlie." Marty laid the taser aside,
approached me and suddenly struck me in the gut, making me bend over in
surprised pain. Then he slapped my face hard twice. "Sucker!! Your ass is
mine. Been wanting this a long time; a big jock type I could fuck with. And
not a thing you can do about it. Right?" I was not really hurt much, but
hesitated as I caught my breath. "I asked you a question, fool! Right?"
Strange how the mind reacts under such pressure, how it races ahead,
recognizing and rejecting options and consequences. I was handcuffed, naked and
alone with this guy. I had to choose to go along. "Yes, right, my ass is
yours."
"Good, Charlie; now we are getting somewhere. Spread your fucking legs."
when I complied, feeling more foolish all the time, he said, "Wider, damnit!
That's better."
I cringed as Marty looped the rope around my sac, enclosing my balls,
'leashing' me. I knew that the slightest resistance now would bring me pain.
"Over here!" I moved to where he indicated by a tug on my leash, and
felt him tying a rope to the handcuffs behind my back. The rope was tossede
over some overhead support and pulled tight, forcing my wrist high behind my
back and me to bend over. The free end of the rope secured, my ass was exposed
and I would be unable to protect it at all with my cuffed hands.
"Now to put you in the mood." With that, my whipping began. The first
of several 'softening up' tortures, along with an interrogation during which
Marty forced me to reveal my secret history of fascination with bondage - with
only women so far.
He used a belt, for the whip - "don't have the proper equipmtnet yet" -
plus clothespins, ice, and a candle. the candle was not only for dripping hot
wax on certain sensitive parts, but he also stuck it up my ass. It was a long
candle.
The interrogation revealed to him what had happened between Shirley and
me, the things I had self-inflicted over the years, my rare visits to 'massage
parlors,' nd the things I enjoyed and identified most with as I watched videos,
including the one he had misappropriated.
It was during those tortures that I began the process of being 'turned'
in orientation. Perhaps not completely, but further than I would have ever
before suspected.
Finally, Marty used rope to add to the handcuffs to truss me into a
vicious hogtie on the floor, including the rope around my balls tied to the
handcuffs. Then, "Sorry I don't have a ballgag . . .yet, but I guess this will
do." With that, he stuffed my own jockey shorts into my mouth and tied it in
place with another rope. Yuk! I could taste the heat and dampness of my own
crotch.
I had to watch as he fumbled through my pants to find the key to my
apartment. Then, "Going down to your place to checkout anything that might be
fun for us both. You know, like mags and pic and videos and checkbooks. Stay
right here now. When I get back, I'll really know know you. Then you can give
me a nice blowjob. Ok?"
When I failed to say 'ok,' he said, "Oh, forgot the gag. You can nod for
ok." And when I failed to nod, he whipped the bottom of each exposed sole, and
repeated, "ok?" I knew he had me. I hated yielding so much to him, me being
the big guy and him so small and easy to take down under normal circumstances.
I'd never done what he suggested, ever before, and never would if free. But . .
.I nodded. I think I might even have blushed.
While Marty was in my apartment, I struggled briefly with my bonds, but
found that there was nothing I could do to even begin to escape them, so settled
in as best I could to try to savor my being so helpless, as I had long wanted to
be, but not under these circumstances. I wondered if he would find my hidden
'things'. I wondered about the checkbook and other valuables. Was I to have my
very identity stolen?
Then he returned and stood above me. "Well, no checkbook or other
valuables. Guess I could make you tell me where, but that's not why I have you
down there. Now, these videos are interesting. And this thing I found which I
can only assume is what they call a ring gag. Maybe it will be fun to make you
wear it for our first blowjob. Let's put it on you now, ok?"
I know by then what was expected of me, so nodded agreement. I tried to
speak when he took out the other gag, but he sternly said, "Shut the fuck up,
sucker, and keep your mought open." He seemed to have a natural skill with
restraints, and had little trouble with placing the ring gag in me and drawing
it back to hold my mouth open. Funny thing, I had a fleeting concern about a
fly going into my mouth.
Speaking of flys, as soon as he had the ring gag settled in me, Marty
rose above me and began to strip down, beginning with unzipping his fly. As he
did so, he laughed at me for having the beginnings of an erection. Yup, tied up
and gagged and naked, with a man, of all things, I was sexually aroused. And
ashamed of it. And he enjoyed knowing I was ashamed
Then I saw what Marty had threatened to make me take into my mouth. Need
I describe it? Let's just say it was quite intimidating.
Remember now, I was tightly hogtied; could and did role onto my side or
lie on my stomach, but that was it. Marty sat with his legs on either side of
me, making it impossible for me to role any longer; only lie face down. Then,
with some maneuvering, he entered my ring gag, and me. He had put on a condom
before he sat, so it was not all that vile; mainly degrading. It also forced me
to control my breathing and gag reflex.
"Suck it, asshole!" And I did. Afterward, he said, "Now you are a
cocksucker, so you damn sure better answer when I call you that. Understand,
Cocksucker?"
What could I do? I knew he would make me regret it if I failed to
acknowledge his question. So I nodded.
Have you ever become so disoriented that you could not remember for
certain all that happened to you during a period of time? That happened to me
in some ways during my captivity under Marty. My thoughts are now disorganized
about what exactly happened and when.
I do know that he bent me over a coffee table and tied my legs apart. I
know that he used a camera on a tripod, with self-timer, to make pictures of me
that way, with himself astride me as he did me behind, while I was gagged in
such a way that my features would be recognizable. And a half hour later in my
mouth again.
It all became almost a blur of being gay raped and jerked off.
It ended with the threat of exposure - distribution to neighbors and
employer of the pictures. Then I was sent home.
This all happened weeks ago. Finally, the day before yesterday, I called
Marty to ask him to release the pictures to me. He made a 'deal.' If I could
get loose within an agreed length of time after he tied me up, I could have the
pictures. If not, well, I would still be tied up for him to do as he pleased.
We agreed it would be tied up - no handcuffs. I thought I could surely get
loose from rope, having messed with it quite a lot.
I was wrong. He tied my arms parallel, from wrists to elbows, across the
small of my back. Then more rope around my upper arms so that I could not pull
them in opposition. More around my arms and body. All drawn very tightly, and
done so that my searching fingers found not a strand. Then he forced me to
kneels and tied my legs ankle to thigh. Finally, of course, the ball gag. Why
the gag, as I had agreed to be tied up? To keep me from complaining about how
he had done me up; so he said.
Struggled for a while, but eventually gave up, and told him so. While I
had been tied and fighting it, Marty had roamed my home. Upon my surrender, he
produced the old anchor I used as a doorstop. "Just a little refinement," he
said as he used a rope to loop my balls and tie them down to the anchor.
Then more pictures of me. With my face holding his cock as I knelt. And
then as I was bent over - still anchored - and was taken by him from behind.
So, I pretty much belong to Marty now; even during 'normal' times while I
am not tied up, I must remain available, being under the constant threat of
exposure. Well, maybe I shouldn't say I belong to Marty, actually; but to . .
. .Marty and his . . .friends. Yes, he has pretty much turned me, whether I
like it or not. Do I?
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